


Life Drawing

by GeniaTheParadox



Series: The Cumberfantasy Series [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV) RPF
Genre: F/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 03:53:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/895483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeniaTheParadox/pseuds/GeniaTheParadox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are taking a life drawing class and the nude model is only Benedict Cumberbatch... and then sexy times ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life Drawing

**Author's Note:**

> In this one Benedict isn't actually famous. But he's still, y'know... Benedict.

You’ve been attending this Life Drawing evening class for a few weeks and you’re surprised by how quickly you’ve become used to sketching and painting naked strangers. So far all the models have been women, but this week’s class is all about the male form. You’d like to think that you’re mature enough not to giggle like a schoolgirl at the sight of a nude man, but at the sight of the model in question giggling is the least of your worries.

You notice him immediately as you enter the classroom. He sits in the corner, reading a newspaper and wearing nothing but a blue dressing gown, and you can’t quite keep your eyes off him. You’ve never seen anyone so handsome in such a startling, otherworldly way. His short hair is dark and slightly curly, his cheekbones are high and sharp, and his lips are a full, soft cupid’s bow. You can’t tell from where you’re sitting exactly what colour his eyes are, icy blue or perhaps a light green, but they’re narrow and intense and _beautiful_. You can barely concentrate on what the teacher is saying.

“Okay, Benedict. We’re ready for you now.”

The model – _Benedict –_ smiles politely and puts down his newspaper, before getting to his feet and moving to the raised platform at the centre of the room. And then he drops his dressing gown.

You can’t stop your sharp intake of breath. Nor, apparently, can many of the other women in the class. You didn’t think it was possible for someone to look so _perfect_. He’s tall and slender, but his body is so toned, as if he’s sculpted out of marble. Every inch of his skin is creamy and pale, practically hairless except for a dark strip of hair on his stomach leading down to his – okay, you really don’t want to leer, but _wow_.

Benedict makes his pose, facing you directly, and the teacher tells the class that it’s time to start drawing. You will your hands to stop shaking so you can sketch, and force yourself to look at him. How are you supposed to draw him without _looking_ at him? You start with his arms and his chest and his long slender neck, purposely ignoring his groin just to save your own blushes. You start to sketch his face, mapping out the sharp lines of his jaw and his cheekbones, his cupid’s bow lips, his high forehead and his narrow eyes, trying your best to do his unusual beauty justice. And then your eyes meet.

It’s a moment that goes on for what feels like days. His eyes, looking more green than blue in this light, are locked on yours, like you’re the only person in the room. He looks at you with such intensity that you can’t tear your eyes away. And then he smiles, just a small smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth, and you’re glad your chose to sit down in front of your easel rather than stand because you feel your knees tremble. He eventually drops his gaze and after a second you get back to your drawing, your heart beating a little bit faster than before.

The end of the class comes too quickly, and Benedict puts his dressing gown back on as everyone clears up their stuff. He catches your eye again as you pack up, smiles quickly, and then goes through a door at the other side of the room to get dressed.

Looking back at your drawings, you can’t help but feel a bit disappointed. They’re not _bad_ , strictly speaking. You’re actually one of the best artists in the class, not to blow your own trumpet. But they really don’t do Benedict justice. Your sketches aren’t nearly as beautiful as the real thing. You couldn’t quite capture the grace of his body, the sharp lines and soft contours and shadows. To you, you’re drawings look all wrong.

You’ve spent so long finding everything wrong with your work that you’ve haven’t noticed that the rest of the class has already left. Not unusual, since you’re always so slow to leave. Just as you’re putting your things away, your bag falls and all your sketching pencils, charcoals and paint brushes roll everywhere. You knell down to shove everything back in your bag, glad that no one saw that.

“Here, let me help.”

You look up at the sound of that voice – that deep baritone voice that sends a shiver down your spine – and your breath catches in your throat. Benedict is kneeling right in front of you, helping you pick up your stuff. You want to say something, but you don’t trust your voice. He’s possibly the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in real life. When you finally both stand you mumble an awkward thanks, blushing before you can stop yourself.  

“Don’t mention it,” he says. He glances at your easel and says “Mind if I take a look?”

“Erm... yeah, sure,” you say, even though you’d rather he didn’t.

He gives your work a good look and smiles. “Wow, that’s really good. It actually looks like me and everything. You’re really talented.”

“Thanks,” you say quietly, blushing even harder.

“It’ll look even better when it’s finished.”

“It... it is finished.”

“Oh,” His eyes linger on the picture, on the fact that you’ve only drawn his top half and the drawing fades out as it greats closer to his manhood. “Well, it’s... it’s really great. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

You tell him your name, wishing that you would stop blushing so much, stop making it so obvious that you fancy him.

“Nice to meet you,” he says. “I’m Benedict. Benedict Cumberbatch. It’s a mouthful, I know. Just call me Ben.”

“Nice to meet you, Ben,” you say awkwardly. It was strange having a conversation with him when you’d already seen him naked. He looks strange fully clothed but still so handsome, in dark jeans, a white t-shirt and a black leather jacket. He smiles and runs his hand through his hair.

“I hope I’m not being too forward,” he says, charmingly. “But do you maybe want to go to dinner with me or something? I mean, if you’re not doing anything.”

“No! I mean, no, I’m not doing anything,” you say far too quickly, mentally kicking yourself. “Sure, I’d love to.”

He smiles beautifully. “Great. I’ll give you a lift.”

You leave the building with him, expecting to be taken to his car, and instead he leads you to an incredible black motorbike, a sleek vintage looking Harley. Wow.

“Don’t worry, I have an extra helmet,” Benedict says.

You’re glad you decided to wear jeans today and you’re sure the helmet is going to make your hair look terrible, but riding on the back of the motorbike gives you an excellent excuse to wrap your arms around Benedict’s slim waist and hold him close as you zoom through the streets.

The sun is beginning to set as you get to the restaurant, a relaxed looking pizza place. The two of you sit at a table in a quiet candlelit corner, and the evening is perfect. He tells you all about how modelling isn’t really his dream and how he really wants to be an actor, and you tell him all about yourself too, until you feel like you’re talking to an old friend. But always in the back of your mind you can’t ignore the fact that Benedict is _beautiful_. You don’t want to seem shallow, there’s so much more to Benedict than just his looks, but you can’t help but picture everything that’s under his form-fitting clothes...

You know it might not be wise to rush things – you’ve only just met, after all – but when Benedict invites you back to his flat you say yes in a heartbeat. Holding him close on the back of his motorbike, your imagination runs riot. You already know what he looks like naked, but now you’re just dying to map out the fine contours of his body with your hands instead of your eyes. You want to know what that seemingly flawless skin feels like and _tastes_ like. You’re already impossibly horny by the time he leads you into his flat.

Your desire outweighs how nervous you feel. It’s clear by the look in his eyes that he wants exactly what you want. He takes you by the hand and leads you to his bedroom, and the moment the door closes behind you his arms are around your waist and he’s kissing you deeply. Those gorgeous cupid’s bow lips are soft but firm and take your breath away. You kiss him back with just as much passion, pushing his leather jacket off his shoulders and running your fingers through his hair. He holds you right up against his slender body, his tongue sensually licking into your mouth as his hands slip up your top and caress your back. His touch sets your pulse racing, his tongue exploring your mouth making you moan into his.

You undress each other slowly, your lips barely parting as you lie on the bed. Once you’re both naked you roll over so you’re on top of him, and you let your hands and lips explore the beauty of Benedict’s body. You kiss his sharp cheekbones, down his jaw, towards his pale neck. He lets out a deep groan as you gently bite down on the pulse point of his neck, leaving nice possessive mark. You move down his body, peppering his chest with kisses and gentle bites, sucking and pinching his nipples until he’s writhing underneath you.

By the time you get to his cock it’s already rock hard, long and thick, and leaking pre-come all over his toned stomach. Benedict looks down at you, his piercing blue-green eyes blown out with lust and desire. He shudders as you take his cock in your hand and give it a long, slow lick from base to tip, flicking your tongue over the crown to lap up the salty pre-come. He moans your name deeply once you take him in your mouth, swirling your tongue around his length and using your hand to stroke all that you can’t get into your mouth – he’s a bit too big for your gag reflex to cope with. His hand is on the back of your head, not pushing you down but just stroking your hair and your face as you suck him. He’s all you can taste and smell, and the noises he’s making just turn you on more and more. You’re so wet that you just can’t take it any longer.

Benedict’s little disappointed whimper when you take his cock out of your mouth is so cute that you immediately kiss you again.

“Fuck me,” you whisper right in his ear, making him shiver.

He grins at you flirtatiously, before he sits up and gets a condom from the bedside cabinet, ripping it open with his teeth and rolling it onto his cock. You straddle his lap and he holds onto your hips, slowly lowering you down onto his prick until you’re completely impaled. Both of you moan, and Benedict runs his large hands all over your body and caresses your breasts as he gives you a moment to get used to him filling you up.

Eventually you start to move, raising yourself up until only the tip of his cock is inside you before dropping back down. Benedict holds tightly onto your hips, sucking on your tits as he thrusts up into you and you begin to ride him in earnest. Benedict lies back on the bed, watching you as you ride him, and you brace yourself against his flushed chest as you bounce up and down on his cock, moaning his name louder and louder.

Suddenly he flips you over so you’re on your back, curling his hands around your thighs so your legs are spread wide. He slams into you, hard and fast and merciless, making you cry out as the headboard bangs against the wall. Oh God, you’re so close... you beg him not to stop as you claw desperately at his back, _please don’t stop_...

“Come for me,” he growls commandingly, his hand slipping between you both and his fingers rubbing your hard clit in quick circles. “I want to see you fall apart... fucking come for me.”

You’re too far gone to even respond coherently. You cling onto the headboard with both hands so hard your knuckles go white, Benedict fucking you so hard that it feels like you’re going insane with pleasure. Finally with a scream your orgasm hits you, crashing over you, your whole body trembling underneath him as you come so hard you’re sure your heart actually stops for a second. He pounds into you relentlessly, messy and erratic, until he finally groans your name loudly as he comes, riding out his own climax until you’re both completely spent.

You’re both sweaty and sated as you lie under the duvet, his arms around you as your head rests on his chest. As sleepy as you feel, you just can’t wipe the smile off your face.

“So are you going to finish your drawing of me?” he suddenly asks casually.

“Ben, I told you,” you say with a giggle. “It _is_ finished.”

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest and making you smile even wider. “No, it’s not. But I’ll be happy to model for you again.”


End file.
